Understanding
by LOTR-nutcase
Summary: Pre and then post season 2 Tochelle love story. Will explore their relationship...how it started, how it fell apart, and how they were able to repair it...assuming I get that far!.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This is my first 24 fanfic, and I'm in a hurry to get it up tonight, so bear with me here. Reviews are loved and appreciated! Thanks.

Michelle knew she was in trouble the minute she reported to Mason's office. It was her first day at the Los Angeles CTU after transferring from Division, and considering the reason she'd left, she wanted everything to go smoothly. It only took one look at the man standing, arms crossed, in front of Mason's desk to know that she was in for another "work vs. personal life" struggle.

But she was, after all was said and done, a professional, and an exceedingly dedicated and capable one at that. So she merely glanced at the man before directing her attention to Mason.

"Michelle," he said briskly, "I know you know the drill and we've got a lot of work to do today, so I'll save the 'welcome to CTU' crap for another day. This," Mason nodded at the stranger," is Tony Almeida. He's your department head. He's gonna show you around and then I need both of you to start running some names and cross-checking them with known terrorist cells within the US. I'll send them down to your station in a couple minutes." Mason bent back over his paperwork, obviously dismissing them. Michelle looked at Tony and willed her heart beat to slow down.

"C'mon," Tony said. "We'll get you set up."

At first he thought she was pretty. It was an objective obse5rvation, and one that he quickly dismissed from his day-to-day thoughts. She wasn't the only pretty woman working at CTU.

Then she earned his respect. She was good at her job- damn good- and she became his favorite delegate almost immediately. He found himself giving her the most interesting and challenging work…not because she was the only one who could do it, but because she would enjoy it, and because he could always count on her. Whenever he got the chance to work in close proximity to someone, he tried to make sure it was Michelle Dessler.

Things continued to progress exponentially, and within the space of six months Tony was having a hard time taking his gaze off her at work, and dreaming about her at night. Somehow, without his conscious awareness, Michelle had slipped past his defenses from "pretty," raced through "attractive," and was permanently filed under both "beautiful" and "sexy as hell." But if she felt anything for him she was hiding it well. Every time Tony considered asking her out he lost his nerve at the last minute when she invariably said something about work.

Even thinking about Nina didn't help.

So Michelle shook herself mentally whenever she caught herself daydreaming. She tried to ignore his physical attributes (plentiful though they were), and attempted to appreciate his personality on a purely professional level. It was a largely unsuccessful endeavor. Once, on a slow day, she was forced to retreat to the restroom to collect herself after she realized she was trying to figure out why he always rolled up his shirt sleeves and undid the top few buttons.

_Focus, Dessler_, was her mantra.

So she had a crush on a coworker. So what? It happened all the time. She could deal with it.

But sometimes at night she would lie awake, vaguely wishing her job was less critical, less stressful. Would she have casually flirted, or made an effort to find out how he felt about her? Would she have dared to approach him personally, rather than professionally?

_Stop it!_ She told herself. _It's never going to happen. Just stop torturing yourself and get over him._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Thank you for all the reviews! Really, you're all so encouraging, I appreciate it so much. Sorry this has taken awhile to get up, but I'm moving back to the dorms in a couple days, so I'll have more privacy and be able to update more often. I also apologize for not formatting chapter one very well…I was in a hurry to post it, and I completely forgot to go back and make it look nice. So here's chapter two…hope you like it! I'm really looking forward to this and the chapter after, because they'll be pretty happy (as these things go). Also can't wait until the season premiere Sunday night!

Oh, and another thing…I'm going to be glossing over some events from Day 2 without going into a lot of detail, and I'll probably get the dialogue wrong. Unfortunately, I don't have the DVDs with me, so I can't double-check timelines and stuff like that. If you notice anything glaringly wrong, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of it.

* * *

…And then the bomb happened.

That, Michelle would reflect later, was how she always thought of it. _And then the bomb happened_. Like it was the destination of all her stories, the turning point for her entire life. But then, that's exactly what it was: a turning point. So many of her friends and coworkers dead- over thirty in all- and of course that awful moment when she thought she was looking at Tony's dead body.

Her heart stopped. Buried under a pile of debris, a man's body was twisted in such a way that Michelle knew he was dead. He was wearing dark clothes, and he was about the same size as Tony. _Oh, God,_ she thought selfishly, _please not Tony._ _Anybody but Tony!_ The walls of the building (what was left of them) seemed to pull in around her, like a trick camera shot in a movie. All she could see was that dead body. All she could think was _I never got a chance to find out_.

Then she heard his voice. For a split second, as she turned and their eyes met, her world halted. Everything was gone- the rubble, the dust, her bruised, aching body- only she and Tony were in the room, only relief that he was alive filled her mind. In that moment, a moment that lasted forever, she realized that she loved him. Really and truly loved him, despite everything keeping them apart.

The realization shocked her back into reality. With a rush, everything came back. The ambulance and fire sirens blared, shouting filled the air, and Michelle started coughing. She could not deal with this now. _Wait,_ she told herself firmly. _Hash it out later tonight, when this is all over_.

* * *

Tony allowed himself ten seconds to take it personally.

For ten seconds, he let grief wash through him, mourning the ones who were lost. Five of those seconds were devoted to relief that Michelle was all right. Then, because he was a professional and because it was his duty, he went back to work.

He sorted through rubble till his fingers were bleeding. He helped the emergency response teams lift debris and stabilize injured personnel. He assisted the uninjured with setting up temporary work stations. He watched Paula die and told himself that it was the only thing they could do, that the lives of millions were at stake, and that she probably would have died at the hospital anyway. He wondered if, in Mason's shoes, he would have been able to make the same call- to put the well-being of the country above one person's life.

Michelle caught him grieving. Tony told her that he agreed with Mason's decision about Paula, but that agreeing with it didn't make it any easier to bear. He knew he should have been 100 focused on the job, or at the very least too overwrought to notice, but he couldn't help feeling a small thrill when she put her hand on his back in a gesture of comfort. God, what he wouldn't have given to be able to turn and take her in his arms right then and there. But he didn't, of course. She was just being nice.

Then, because he didn't have enough on his plate already, he found out that George (funny how you started thinking of people you'd never really liked before in friendlier terms when you found out they were dying) had radiation poisoning and wouldn't be around much longer. For a moment Tony thought he was going to break down. He couldn't do it- it was all too much. The bomb, the nuke, all the dead CTU agents, Jack…no one could hold up long under all this stress. No one.

He might have walked out then, consigning everything to fate, if he hadn't looked over and seen Michelle. She was standing straight and tall, as cool and collected as ever, relentlessly hooking computers back up to the network, but when she stood back to examine her work, he caught her expression. It was awful to see so much pain in one person's eyes. Michelle took a deep breath and passed one hand over her face. When she removed it, Tony could see her professional mask was back in place.

That's when he knew he could make it through the rest of the day. If for nothing else, for no better reason, he would do this job, finish this operation for Michelle. Because if he fell apart, everything fell to her, and he couldn't do that, couldn't put more on her shoulders.

* * *

If one more person asked how she was doing, Michelle thought, she might actually tell them. Then they'd be sorry they asked. _How do you THINK I'm doing?_ She wanted to snap. _I helped dig out the bodies of thirty dead coworkers. I'm trying to stop a nuclear bomb from going off in the middle of LA. My emotionally unstable brother keeps calling, and the woman who MADE him such a wreck is eyeing me for any excuse to get me fired. On top of that, I just realized I'm in love with my boss. So yeah, I'm doing OK._

Not that she would say any of that, of course. She just really wanted to.

So she really couldn't help herself when she confronted Mason about his condition. His reaction was about as polar opposite as possible from what she'd been expecting.

"I made myself and everyone around me miserable for five thousand dollars a year," he said, putting his arm around her. "That was my price." Then he paused. "You know, Michelle, I'm not a big advice giver, but under the circumstances... Don't wait around for your life to happen to you. Find something that makes you happy, and do it. Because everything else is all just background noise."

And that was it. That was the moment Michelle knew she had to do something about her feelings for Tony. Because in this job…you just never knew. The bomb was a prime example: something could happen at any second that would make it impossible for you to tie up your loose ends.

So she told him.

* * *

_Why does he have to do that,_ Michelle thought. Tony was sitting on her desk again, watching her work and telling her something that she processed automatically without really thinking about it. She was nervous. Very nervous. But she had to do this. If she didn't do it now, she never would, and if she never did it she'd end up like George: alone.

Well, maybe that was a worst-case scenario, but still.

She took a deep breath and began her mentally rehearsed speech. "Look, Tony, I know that is probably a bad time…" Really, Michelle had no idea what she was saying. It was all just tumbling out, a little at a time. Her mouth was moving but she wasn't hearing the words. All she was hearing was a mental repetition of, _God, he must think I'm pathetic. This is so embarrassing._

"Michelle, I feel the same way."

_What?_

Everything after that was a blur of ecstasy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for all the reviews! I'm sorry this chapter was so long in the making. Actually, I have 24 to blame for that…I've been re-watching season 4 pretty much nonstop since I got it, and when I'm not doing that I'm reading other people's 24 fanfiction. On the bright side of all this, I'm getting lots of good ideas! Oh, and this fic will be non-s5 compatible...as in, Michelle doesn't die. Stupid writers. Can't believe they did that.

The character of Pax in this chapter is based on my good friend/ roommate/ sometimes beta, Erin. Unfortunately for us, she is not yet a 24 fanatic, but I'm working on converting her. I also promise that there will be much more dialogue in this and future chapters…I've been really bad about that so far.

Please review! All feedback is good, even if it's to tell me that I should drop the English major before I hurt someone. :) Thanks!

Bonus! Special Guest appearance by the Cubs Mug!

**

* * *

**

_I'll see you tomorrow._

What the hell was that supposed to mean!

Outwardly as collected as ever, but seething with frustration inside, Michelle descended from Tony's office to the bullpen. As she made her way across the room and through the maze of hallways leading to the parking garage, she wondered if men had been put on earth for any reasons that didn't result in exasperating women. She was at that stage in a budding relationship where she, along with all of her girlfriends, invariably spent nearly all her conscious hours analyzing, reanalyzing, and debating with her various "selves" (pragmatic vs. romantic, responsible vs. dreamy, respectable vs. ohmygodiwannajumpyourbonesrightNOW) the meaning behind every word, look, and touch that she had so far exchanged with the poor, unsuspecting fellow in question.

After today, there were a LOT of things to consider: her embarrassing confession, his reaction, his reassurances to her, that Kiss (Michelle would always think of that Kiss as having a capital "k"), Tony's reaction to _it,_ and his parting words to her.

_I'll see you tomorrow._

Michelle couldn't figure it out. It was just such a _guy_ thing to say…totally ambiguous, but with just enough wiggle room that she could easily interject hundreds of ulterior meanings into the phrase.

The security guard on duty, Hannah Scott, was an acquaintance of Michelle's. She smiled as Michelle dug through her purse to find her ID card. "I bet you're glad to be leaving for the day," she said pleasantly.

"Am I ever!" Michelle agreed with exaggerated relief. "I think it's safe to say that this has been the worst day of my life, and I can't imagine anything happening in the future that would overshadow it."

"Really?" Hannah asked. "I would have thought that _you_ would remember at least some of today fondly."

Michelle looked up at the emphasized "you" and frowned at Hannah. "What do you mean?"

The guard grinned cheekily but had the grace to blush a little beneath her carrot-red hair. "Oh, I think you know what I mean."

"Hannah…" Michelle brandished her ID in a vaguely threatening manner.

"Oh, you should see your face. You are positively panicking, I can tell." She plucked the card out of Michelle's hand and swiped it through the reader next to the door. Michelle glared and punched in her code. "There's no point getting upset about it. Everybody already knows."

"Everybody knows _what_, Hannah? C'mon!" Michelle pleaded from the doorway. "Just tell me! I can only hold this door open for a few seconds before the alarm goes off!"

"All I'm going to say is that I'm jealous. We're all jealous."

"All who?"

"Every female in this building, of course. Shut the door."

"Hannah!"

"Shut the door, Michelle. Go home and dream about sucking face with Agent Almeida some more."

Michelle blanched. Hannah burst out laughing and shoved the door closed.

* * *

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod…Michelle threw her purse on the kitchen table and grabbed the phone. _Please be home,_ she prayed, kicking off her shoes before starting to pace.

"Michelle?" A sleepy voice answered after the fourth ring.

"You are not going to believe this, Pax. You are NOT going to BELIEVE this."

"Believe what?" Pax asked, sounding more awake. Michelle, she knew, was aware that Pax was NOT a morning person. Only a true emergency would have prompted her to call before noon.

"Well, it was after the bomb. I was really--"

"What! What bomb! There was a bomb!"

"Jesus, Pax, don't you watch the news? There was a bomb at CTU. I'm ok, but this is more important—"

"More important than a _bomb_! Your priorities are screwed up, 'Chelle."

"MY priorities are screwed up? I'm not the one who stayed up until six in the morning five nights a week in college."

"I kept a 3.5, didn't I? I graduated, didn't I? I make more than you, don't I?"

Michelle sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Carefully cradling the phone between her head and shoulder, she began changing into an old baggy T-shirt and shorts. "_Anyway…_"

"Hey, I'm not the one who deviated from the subject."

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not! Now are you going to tell me what's up, or do I need to come over there?"

Michelle paused for a second. "I kissed him."

"Kissed who?" Pax asked eagerly. Michelle didn't answer, prompting her friend to shriek in delight. "The hot agent guy? Your _boss_? You _kissed_ him! Oh my _god_, Michelle, you _slut_!"

"Oh, it gets better. Before I kissed him, I asked him out." Pax's gleeful cheering would not have been rivaled by a Superbowl crowd after an overtime Hail Mary win by the underdog, Michelle thought glumly. When the screaming died down she managed to relay the entire day's story despite an incessant barrage of questions.

"So how was this kiss, anyway?" Pax asked once she had a grip on the basics of the situation.

"Oh, god, it was _amazing_! It was like…I don't know. All those cheesy things you read in romance novels, like shooting stars and fireworks and your knees going weak. Like the best kiss you've ever had times about a thousand, I guess."

"Tongue?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Above the waist touching?"

"No," Michelle said regretfully. "We were in the middle of a hallway, so that was really out. Although if we would have gone on much longer I'm not sure…"

"Mmmhmm. And this guy is hot, yeah? Not like that weirdo you crushed on in high school, right? The skinny blonde one?"

"Phil? Oh, god, no. Polar opposites. Tony's all dark and brooding and sultry."

"Ooh! Ooh! If he was a dessert, what would he be? I think Kevin would be a chocolate chip cookie…good, but pretty boring once you've had a couple." Kevin was Pax's latest in a long string of ex-boyfriends.

"Ooh, good one, lemme think." Michelle sank down onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. "I've got it! But just to give you some comparisons…I'd say that Phil was a vanilla cake and Barry- well, he'd have to be apple pie." Barry had been Michelle's steadiest boyfriend through college, a steady, dependable sort. The kind of guy you wake up one morning and realize is more of a brother than a lover.

"Yeah, ok, so what's Tony?"

"Chocolate fudge cake with caramel frosting."

Pax groaned orgasmically.

"_With_ ice cream!"

"Michelle, you're killing me, here! When can I meet this guy? Preferably before you marry him, but I'll understand if that's, like, this weekend and I can't clear my schedule fast enough."

Michelle giggled, but Pax's question brought her back to the reason for her call. "That's the problem, Pax. I don't know if he really even wants anything more to do with me. I mean, he _said_ he did, but we were both pretty stressed at the time, and when I left today he just said 'I'll see you tomorrow.'"

"'I'll see you tomorrow?' Hmm. Toughie. How did he say it?"

"Well, I was walking out of his office and he called my name, so I turned back around. Then he paused for a minute like he was trying to think of something to say and just came up with 'I'll see you tomorrow.' But then he smiled! Pax, this guy _never_ smiles at work. Ever. Well, he used to smile sardonically at Mason and Chappelle, but this smile was…oh, god. Almost better than the kiss."

"Then I think he's _definitely_ into you."

"Really? You think? I'm not just reading too much into it?"

"Absolutely. Well, either that or he just thinks you're easy and knows he can get laid."

"He could, too."

Pax grinned and finally opened her blinds to let some light into her bedroom. She was utterly thrilled that her serious, uptight friend was finally getting flustered by a worthy man. Michelle had always been reserved, especially romantically, and whenever she had dared not to be it seemed like she ended up disappointed in whatever guy she'd been attracted to. But Pax, who had known her since grade school, had never _ever_ seen Michelle this worked up by a guy. Not even close. Pax also knew that her friend hadn't slept with very many men, and when she did she waited until they were at least a month into a relationship, so the fact that Michelle was quite frankly offering herself up for this Tony guy's use was extremely revealing.

"Well, I think you should call him."

"What! No. Absolutely not. I've put myself on the line more than enough. Now it's his turn."

"You wuss."

"Yes," Michelle said curtly, "I am. But if he's really interested, he'll make the next move."

"You're probably right," Pax sighed. "I just want you to get the ball rolling so you can call me with juicier stories! I need all the inspiration I can get, you know." She was a writer- and quite a successful one, at that. Her self-dubbed "trashy romance novels," which paid the bills, were consistently best sellers, and her more literary works, published under a different name, had received critical acclaim.

"Pax, I _forbid_ you to use this in a book!"

"Oh, come on! It'd be such a great plot- the successful career woman is floored by her gorgeous boss, and after months of hiding her feelings finds comfort in his arms during a national crisis. Of course, _my_ characters would take over one of your little holding rooms and have a steamy rendezvous instead of a little kiss in the hallway."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "They have cameras and microphones in those, you know."

"Like that would stop you!"

Their conversation continued in this vein for some time. When she finally said goodbye and hung up, Michelle felt infinitely better. A little "girl talk," she thought, was just what she had needed. Unfortunately, without Pax to distract her, she was left to dwell on Hannah's revelation: that everyone at CTU knew about the Kiss.

* * *

About the time Michelle was drifting off to sleep, Tony was finishing up the massive amounts of paperwork the day had required. Signing the last one with a flourish- his signature had gotten progressively sloppier as the day had progressed- he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. God, he was tired. He felt as if every bit of energy had been sucked out of his body and replaced with lead. Then he looked out the window, down to Michelle's station, and felt a little thrill of adrenaline. Some night-shift (well, day shift at the moment) guy- what was his name? Mark?- was sitting there. That meant Michelle was at home. Probably sleeping.

In a bed. Wearing some kind of girly nightgown…no, Tony corrected himself, he couldn't see Michelle in a proper nightgown. She'd have some kind of businesslike pajamas and matching robe. And under them she'd have perfectly prim underwear, with coordinating bra.

He shivered. But then, maybe not. Maybe she wore black lace and a thong.

_Definitely time to go home, Almeida,_ Tony thought. He'd been fantasizing about Michelle for months, now, but he'd always felt a little guilty about it. Like he was invading her privacy or something. Now, however, after she had admitted feelings for him and they'd kissed- Kissed!- his imagination apparently thought it had been given carte blanche as far as daydreaming about her went.

Tony stood and took a deep breath. It was time to go home and sleep, before he did something dumb. Like calling Michelle and waking her up to ask her out. Or worse, showing up at her apartment for the same purpose. He grabbed his jacket, crutches, and coffee mug and headed out the door.

He stopped off in the coffee room to rinse out the mug before carefully drying it off and placing it on its shelf. The mug was something of a celebrity item around CTU, ever since the time Milo, freelancing for a day to fill in for Jamey and Nina, had "borrowed" it. Tony, after a brief but intense panic attack, had relentlessly grilled every employee in the building until he tracked his mug down. He had then proceeded to lecture Milo, loudly, for a full three minutes on respecting other people's property. Milo (as well as everyone else he had glared at in the course of his search) had given him a wide berth for days afterward.

Giving the mug a last infinitesimal adjustment, Tony limped his way out of the room and out of CTU.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author:** Thank you everyone! The reviews for this story have been so inspiring…I appreciate each and every one of you! Special thanks to bookworm03, AlmeidaFluff, and chezlovesyou. If you haven't read their stuff, I highly recommend it!

Also, thanks to those of you who read and reviewed "A Different Perspective." That one was one of those plot bunnies that just WILL NOT go away.

Last note, I promise: I know nothing about sprained ankles or torn ligaments. I was tempted to just conveniently forget about Tony's injury….but I like things pretty canon, and I'm already intending to completely disregard s5, so I decided not to. Bear with my lack of medical knowledge, please!

* * *

_When you love someone - you'll do anything  
You'll do all the crazy things that you can't explain  
You'll shoot the moon - put out the sun  
When you love someone _

You'll deny the truth - believe a lie  
There'll be times that you'll believe you can really fly  
But your lonely nights - have just begun  
When you love someone

When you love someone - you'll feel it deep inside  
And nothin else can ever change your mind  
When you want someone - when you need someone  
When you love someone...

When you love someone - you'll sacrifice  
You'd give it everything you got and you won't think twice  
You'd risk it all - no matter what may come  
When you love someone  
You'll shoot the moon - put out the sun  
When you love someone

-Bryan Adams, "When you love someone"

* * *

He waited until 5:03 to call her.

There were a number of reasons for this: (1.) He wanted to give her (and himself) time to sleep, (2.) he didn't want to come on too strongly and (3.) he thought he would seem less desperate if he waited until after five. But 5:30 seemed to late…what if she made other plans for dinner? And 5:15? Well, then it would just be obvious he'd been waiting until after five. Same with 5:10. And really, what was the point of waiting if he just went with 5:05? So in the end he screwed waiting and picked up the phone at 5:03.

Her phone rang. He tapped his pen nervously against the table. What if she wasn't home? Oh, God, he hadn't thought of that. He hadn't prepared an answering machine speech. It rang again. Would it be better to just hang up if he got her machine, or leave an awkward-sounding message? The phone rang a third time.

"Hello?"

She waited until after the third ring to answer, because she'd read something in _Cosmo_ once that only losers with no lives waited by the phone and picked up after the first ring. She decided not to think about the fact that she'd taken the phone to bed with her that morning just to make sure she'd be able to get to it before the machine picked up. The caller ID said "Unlisted Number," but she knew it was him. She could feel it.

"Hey, Michelle, it's Tony."

Adrenaline shot through her veins. She always got a thrill when he said her name…not to mention when she said his. So she said it. "Hey, Tony." Then she was out. What else could she say? Somehow 'I love you and I want to have your babies' didn't seem right over the phone.

"How're you holding up? Did you get some sleep?"

He was so sweet to be concerned about her! Michelle felt parts of her beginning to melt into girly puddles of goo. "Yeah, actually I slept all day and I just woke up. Which probably means I won't get to sleep tonight, but I just couldn't resist. How about you?"

"Same here."

There was a little pause. Michelle frantically tried to come up with something to talk about, but apparently one of the gooey puddles used to be her brain, because she was drawing blanks.

"Listen," Tony finally said, "If you aren't doing anything tonight, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get together and grab some dinner somewhere. I mean, we _did_ save LA from the nuclear bomb…"

"Sure, I'd like that."

"Great! Well, then, if you'll give me your address I'll pick you up in about an hour. I know it's early but frankly, I'm starved."

Suddenly Michelle was, too.

* * *

As soon as she hung up, Tony leapt to his feet and did a victory dance that, that anyone witnessed it, he would deny to his dying day. It was especially embarrassing considering the awkward brace on his ankle. Sarge, the middle-aged German shepherd lying on the kitchen floor, gave Tony a mournful look.

"She said yes, Sarge!" With one last triumphant cry, Tony limped to the bathroom. There he took a shower that was nothing short of acrobatic- the doctors had told him he could neither take the brace off for three days nor get it wet. He was thinking glumly about the restrictions this might put on his- and hopefully Michelle's- sex life, but as he lathered up his face and started shaving, he realized that it might be a blessing in disguise.

He didn't just want Michelle physically- he wanted her emotionally, spiritually…pretty much every way possible. And while he knew that sleeping together right away wouldn't diminish in any way his deeper feelings for her, he wanted Michelle to know just how much he respected and admired her. So he decided to wait, however difficult it might be. _Slow down, Almeida,_ he reminded himself, _she might change her mind about you. Your table manners might disgust her, or you might find you have nothing to talk about outside of work. There's a lot of night left before the goodnight kiss._

Sarge followed Tony around the house as her nervously readied himself to pick up Michelle. He decided to stay casual- it had been a long day after all- with jeans and one of his customary black shirts. He wondered whether or not to utilize the all-but-full bottle of cologne one of his sisters had given him for Christmas and decided that since he never wore it to work, it might seem to desperate. He _was _desperate- for a certain curly-haired coworker- but Michelle didn't need to know that. Then he debated whether or not to take his crutches, finally deciding not to. He could walk fine without them, as long as he didn't have to go too far.

* * *

As soon as she hung up, Michelle ran to the bathroom. She put her Billy Joel Greatest Hits CD in the stereo and cranked it up as loud as the neighbors would allow before hopping into the shower. The music was upbeat and easy to sing along to…just what she needed to get her jazzed up for a big date. Not that she needed any extra adrenaline.

"The Downeaster 'Alexa'" was playing when she hopped out of the shower. A quick glance at the clock told her she only had 50 minutes left to get ready for her first date with the man of her dreams. _Oh my God, Dessler,_ she told herself. _Calm down. You're turning into a girly-girl._ A part of her protested, _what's wrong with that?_ But Michelle squashed the insubordination. She was having enough doubts about how to act tonight.

She knew she should just be herself and go with the flow, but she was still worried. In spite of everything, she _worked_ with Tony. If things didn't work out, she still had to face him the next morning, and her shy, insecure side urged her to maintain her cool, collected façade all evening long. But Michelle's lovesick heart was begging her to go all out and do all the things Pax had been advising her of for years: flirt, touch his arm, make a lot of eye contact, wear perfume, giggle shyly, and wear a low-cut dress.

Which brought to mind another problem: what to wear? That question, Michelle thought cynically, had been haunting women for generations. If she wore a dress, Tony was sure to show up in jeans, but if _she_ wore denim, he'd arrive in slacks and a dinner jacket. She compromised by pairing one of her demure, serviceable black work-skirts with a red halter top she hadn't worn since the last time Pax dragged her to a club. Then she flew back to the bathroom and frantically applied makeup- sultry black eyeliner and mascara that she'd seen in _Glamour_- and contemplated her hair.

20 minutes left. There wasn't time to straighten it She settled for scrunching it with gel and leaving it down. Then she debated her jewelry options. She really wanted an excuse to wear her sexy gold hoops, but she reminded herself that she didn't want to look too dressed up, and settled on understated rhinestone studs.

Then, with five minutes left (assuming he'd be on time), she called Pax again.

"Wow, two calls in one day? What did I do to merit _this_?"

"Pax! He called and asked me to dinner, and he'll be here in five minutes. What should I do?"

"Him." Pax was a lot quicker on the uptake in the evenings.

"Before that," Michelle deadpanned.

"I dunno…what do you mean?"

"I mean, how do I act? What do I do? How do I let him know that I really like him without being too obvious?"

"Sweetie, you made out in a government agency, in front of witnesses. Unless he's an idiot, he probably already knows."

Michelle sighed. "You know what I mean. I just don't want to get pushy."

"I don't think you're capable of that. Stubborn, hell yes, but not pushy."

"He's gonna be her any minute! You have to help me, Pax!" Michelle was standing next to her front window, peering surreptitiously around the curtains to watch for Tony's arrival.

"Okay, listen and repeat after me."

"Okay."

"I am Michelle Dessler. I am a hot-shot government agent. I am a confident, successful woman." Michelle dutifully echoed Pax. "I don't _need_ this man, I want him, and if I am my normal, wonderful self I will get him."

Michelle turned away from the window and paced her living room floor. "That's the problem. I'm not sure that's true…I think I actually do _need_ Tony."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then, finally, "I'm happy for you, Michelle. I hope it works out."

Someone knocked on the door. Michelle's heart doubled its already frantic speed. "I gotta go- he's here!" She set the phone down on the nearest flat surface, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

* * *

He nearly fell over when he saw her. Yes, she looked _that_ different than she did at the office. Her skirt wasn't indecently short- in fact, it was longer than was conventional- and her shirt, though bright, didn't show as much skin as it could have. It was her hair, a part of Tony's brain realized, that set the mood. It was loose and flowing around her shoulders in dark, silky curls that just begged to be touched, caressed.

"Hi, Tony," she said. He shivered when he heard his name on her lips. He always did that- it was one of the many problems their attraction caused in the workplace.

"Hi," he managed to say. After a few more seconds of staring at her, he shook himself back to reality. "You ready to go?"

She nodded and stepped into the hallway, testing the door's lock behind her. "So where are we going?"

"You like Italian?"

"Does anyone not?" She smiled at him, and he felt something inside him go all mushy.

"Actually, I've tried to give my dog leftover meatballs before, and he won't touch 'em."

"You have a dog?"

He nodded. "Yeah. His name's Sarge…a retired police dog."

"Really? I wouldn't have thought police dogs would make very good pets."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe they don't, I don't know. All I know is they were looking for a home for him somewhere outside the city once he got too old to work. I figured my apartment would be too small for such a big dog, but I offered to let him stay with me for awhile while they looked for a permanent place for him. But when the time finally came to take him out to these people in the country, he- his name was Colombo back then- gave me this look- this accusatory glare that reminded me of my old drill sergeant, and I couldn't do it. We've been together ever since, and he's never once complained about the lack of space."

"What a sweet story," Michelle said with a (dare he say it?) adoring look in her eyes. The mushy thing inside him got mushier.

The ride to the restaurant passed swiftly. They talked about childhood pets, which led to childhood. By the time they reached their destination, they were relating high school horror stories to each other.

* * *

He opened her door for her.

For some reason, this floored Michelle. No man she had ever dated had done that for her before. He also helped her out of the car, held her hand on the way into the restaurant and held _that_ door, as well. Apparently, chivalry wasn't dead after all.

She looked around the foyer with interest, and suddenly felt very under-dressed. At least she'd worn a skirt, but Tony was in jeans (which looked sinfully good on him, she had to admit. It was a good thing she wasn't standing a few paces behind him, or she might have had trouble not staring). Several other couples were milling about; all the men were wearing suits and all the women were wearing cocktail dresses. Tony seemed unfazed. He walked right up to the maitre'd and said "Almeida, table for two, please."

"Do you have a reservation, sir?"

Tony looked the man up and down. "Oh, you're new, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure what that has to do with your reservation, sir."

To Michelle's delight and fascination, Tony then bribed the maitre' d. She never actually saw the money- just Tony's extended hand meeting the suited man's behind the podium. "That's for tonight," Tony said. "Tell Theo I'm here the next time you see him, will ya? Thanks."

Mere moments later they were seated. "How did you do that?" Michelle asked.

"Do what?"

"That thing where you pass the money to the maitre'd without looking at it or anyone else seeing it. How do you do that?"

He shrugged. One corner of his mouth turned up.

"I would suspect," she continued, "that that's what they taught you about in sixth grade Health, when they separated the boys from the girls, only I've never seen a guy under 22 do it successfully. Is it some sort of college graduation requirement?"

At that, Tony laughed outright. Michelle decided then and there that her new mission in life was to make this man laugh as often as possible. He didn't do it nearly enough. She managed it twice more during their meal and was working on the setup for a third while Tony waited to get his credit card back (her offers to pay half had received no acknowledgement whatsoever) when they were interrupted by the arrival of a man she didn't know.

"Tony!" the man cried, shaking Tony's hand enthusiastically. He looked to be in his early thirties- handsome, with pale skin, nearly black hair and hazel eyes. "Why didn't you call and tell us you were coming? I would have set aside a better table for you!"

"Not necessary, Theo, this one's great. I should probably apologize, though, for troubling your maitre'd."

Theo waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about Peter. From now on, he knows to seat you right away. But," he turned to Michelle and smiled, "never mind business. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Michelle, this is Theo Dalton, my brother-in-law. Theo, Michelle Dessler."

It did not escape Michelle's notice that he didn't tell Theo what her relationship to Tony was. She was grateful, in a way- it would've been horrible to hear him say "my colleague" or "my coworker"- but was a trifle disappointed. For a second there she'd hoped to hear him say "my date."

Theo positively beamed. "Ahh! So you're the girl! It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Michelle." She looked at Tony in askance, then back at Theo.

"What do you mean? Surely Tony hasn't….mentioned me before?"

"Oh, no," Theo laughed, "never by name. But Tony's not just my brother-in-law, he's my friend, and it hasn't escaped my notice that he hasn't dated in months, yet still shows all his own little idiosyncratic signs of being in love."

"Theo!" Tony glared at his friend. Theo ignored him and grinned widely at Michelle's blush. "Don't you need to be somewhere else?"

"Sadly, I'm afraid I do. Michelle, it was lovely to meet you. Please, come back soon, with or without this deadbeat. Tony, will we see you Sunday night?"

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I'll be there."

Theo beamed. "Good! Angie will be happy to hear that. She's missed you the last few weeks."

"Works been hectic," Tony said, while Michelle nodded in agreement. Even before the bomb, things had been escalating. Hopefully they'd have at least a few days of relative ease before something else came up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:** I don't live in LA and have no desire to go there, so the section of town they're in is completely fabricated. I hope no one minds. Thank you for all the reviews! Oh, and I don't own _Casablanca_. I mean, I have a copy of it, but…oh, never mind. You all know what I mean.

Oh, and please forgive my blatant foreshadowing ;)

* * *

"You up for a movie? Or are you too tired?"

"I'm always up for a movie," Michelle answered. "I'm something of a film junkie, actually."

"Great, then you're gonna love this," Tony said somewhat smugly. They were in his car driving somewhere. Michelle wasn't paying very much attention; she was much more interested in sneaking covert glances at Tony than watching street signs.

"You sound awfully sure of yourself. What are we going to see?" Having dinner together seemed to have broken what ice was left between them. Michelle was finally feeling relaxed enough to tease Tony- and it was not lost on her that the two glasses of wine she'd had were probably partially responsible.

"Yeah, I read somewhere that women find that attractive," Tony said as he turned down Castille Street. Michelle saw that they were in one of the city's "old town" sections. Boutiques, small galleries, and family-owned restaurants lined a street that was artfully dotted with nineteenth-century lampposts and fenced trees.

"What? The secret's out? Oh, no!" Michelle cried melodramatically. "So, what are we seeing?" she asked again.

"Don't you like surprises?"

"Only when they turn out well. I've had more than a few that didn't, and they taught me to be wary."

"Well, I'm positive you'll like this one. And, you know, if you don't, I'm gonna lose all respect for you as a person, so…"

Michelle giggled. "No pressure, huh?"

Tony grinned and parked the car in a lot just off Castille. He got out and, once again, magically appeared on the passenger side before Michelle could open her own door. Gently, he took her elbow and led her away from the car. "Okay, now comes the fun part…close your eyes."

She raised her eyebrows. "You know, this parking lot is pretty dark. I'm not sure I trust you, sir. Are you going to be a gentleman?"

"Do you want me to be?" The look in Tony's eyes, Michelle thought, was positively _sinful_. She blushed, making a mental note to guard against future unwitting double entendres, and decided to bluff her way out.

"Now how am I supposed to answer that? Damned if I do, damned if I don't!"

"Oh, c'mon! I just don't want you to see the marquee before we get into the theater. Just close your eyes and I'll lead you there."

Michelle studied him for a minute, fighting back a smile. Feigning reluctance, she closed her eyes. "If I trip over or run into anything, I'll…well, I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like it!"

"I'm quaking in my ankle brace, really."

* * *

A few blocks of snappy dialogue later, Tony led her indoors, bought two tickets to an unnamed show, and sat her down in a plush velvet seat. Mostly relieved that they had arrived without mishap, a part of Michelle was nonetheless a little disappointed the trip was over. It had been an unexpectedly sensuous experience- without her eyes, her senses of touch, smell, and hearing seemed to have heightened, and Tony's close proximity had been thrilling. On some more primitive level, as well, she had secretly found being so dependent (temporarily) on him just a little arousing.

Not that she'd ever admit it. Under duress or for _any_ amount of money.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

She did so and found that they were sitting in a small darkened theater. Red velvet chairs with gold studs, red draperies on either side of the screen, and carved wooden moldings lent an air of classic opulence to the place. The screen in front of them was running local ads for orthodontists, real estate agents, and the like. Three or four elderly couples dispersed throughout the seats were the only other people in the room. Almost as soon as Michelle took all this in, the lights dimmed further and the sound increased. There were no previews, but a black and white map appeared on the screen amidst familiar crashing chords. Michelle's heart rate picked up. Could it be…?

It was. "Casablanca!" she whispered feverishly, sitting up straighter. "Oh my god, Tony, this is one of my favorite movies of all time! This is amazing!" Elated, she did something utterly uncharacteristic: she leaned over and kissed Tony briefly on the lips. "Thank you," she said, and turned back to the movie.

* * *

Tony had done a lot of so-called heroic things in his life, most of which he would argue the significance of, but the expression on Michelle's face made this one surprise, such a small thing, top them all. She looked at him, he thought, like he was the only man in the world. Like he'd just bought her a diamond necklace or professed his undying love for her in front of everyone they knew.

In a way, he thought, he had. But he wasn't ready to think about that now.

So he put his arm over her shoulders, reveled in the feel of her head leaning into his shoulder, and settled back to watch Humphrey Bogart play the noblest man in history.

_**Rick**: Last night we said a great many things. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I've done a lot of it since then, and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong.  
__  
**Ilsa**: But, Richard, no, I... I..._

**Rick**: Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up in a concentration camp. Isn't that true, Louie?

**Captain Renault**: I'm afraid Major Strasser would insist.

**Ilsa**: You're saying this only to make me go.

**Rick**: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.

**Ilsa**: But what about us?

**Rick**: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.

**Ilsa**: When I said I would never leave you.

**Rick**: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now, now... Here's looking at you kid.  


"I love that movie," Michelle said later in the car as he drove back to her apartment, "but I just don't understand the ending."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, remembering the three tears that had glistened on her face as they'd exited the theater.

"I mean, why did he send her away? He loved her; she loved him. He should have gone with her and left Victor to fend for himself! I mean, if you were Rick, wouldn't you? I would."

"Actually, no. I understand him perfectly."

Michelle looked at him in surprise. "Sometimes," Tony continued, "you love someone so much that it's more important to do what's best for her than it is to make yourself happy."

"But they _both_ would have been happy if Rick had gone with her, or if she'd stayed with him!" Michelle protested.

Tony shook his head. "Maybe for awhile, yeah. But how could they ever really be happy with that hanging over their heads? No, Rick," he said decisively, "is the most grudgingly noble character in the history of cinema. He knows that what's in the past has to stay there, and that no matter what Ilsa thinks she wants now, she's better off someplace safe with her husband."

"What makes you so sure Rick knows what's best for her?" Michelle asked, her feminist side a bit indignant.

"Easy. She let herself get caught up in an emotional longing for the past. He did, too, but he snapped out of it in time to see clearly. What they had in Paris was great, sure, but it ended there. Victor and Ilsa belong together now."

Michelle was quiet for a few moments. Then, "how many times have you seen _Casablanca_, anyway?"

Tony smiled a little. "Too many to count. How 'bout you?"

"After every bad breakup I've ever had, and with my friend Pax after every breakup _she's_ had…so, a lot."

Something, the mushy part, inside Tony twisted. "No way—_you _watch _Casablanca_ whenever you break up with a guy?" Michelle nodded.

"Why," she asked, "do you?"

"Swear you won't ever tell anyone?"

"Cross my heart."

"I've watched it every time I've been dumped. Which, I should warn you, has happened more than a few times."

"So why'd you take me to see it tonight, then?"

"I dunno," he said thoughtfully. "I guess…it's just that in spite of the ending, it's the most romantic movie I've ever seen."

* * *

Much to her embarrassment, Michelle's hands her sweating as she dug through her purse in search of her keys. This was it—the moment they'd been waiting for. Well, she'd been waiting for it anyway. Would there be an awkward "good night?" A passionate kiss? Could she possibly seduce him so soon? Triumphantly, she produced her key and held it aloft briefly before unlocking her door. She turned slightly and asked, attempting to be completely casual about it, "do you want to come in for a cup of coffee or mmmpff—"

Tony cut her off with a kiss. His right hand held the back of her head; his left settled on her back and pulled her towards him. Michelle swayed towards him, just like she had at CTU, eyes fluttering closed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. After that first, passionate onslaught Tony's lips softened, caressing hers slowly, gently, their soft sounds of desire mingling in the hallway. Soon both his hands were moving through her hair, tangling his fingers in her curls.

Michelle groped behind her for the doorknob. She threw the door open moved backwards into her apartment, tugging Tony with her as their kisses grew more frantic.

Until, without warning, he pulled away from her and ran a hand through his hair. "Tony—" she protested, catching her breath, "what—?"

"Shh…" he interrupted. "I had a great time with you tonight, Michelle. Good night." He started to close the door behind him.

"Wait!" Michelle grabbed his sleeve. "What's wrong?"

Tony smiled softly. "Absolutely nothing, sweetheart. That's why I'm leaving." He reached out and gently stroked her cheek. "Now go get some sleep and don't even _think_ about coming in to work tomorrow, okay?" Then, with a quick peck to her forehead, he was gone.

Michelle glared at the closed door for a full minute before grabbing the phone.

* * *

Tony didn't waste any time calling Theo. "How'd you know?" he asked without preludes when his brother-in-law picked up. The restaurant had just closed, so he was lucky to even get a hold of the guy.

"How did I know what?" Theo was used to Tony's succinct phone habits.

"That Angela was 'the one' and all that stuff."

Theo didn't even bother asking Tony to clarify. The guy had brought a lot of women to his restaurant over the years, but he'd never once looked at any of them the way he'd looked at Michelle. "I got a call from a guy I know in Paris, and he offered me a job at a five star restaurant there."

"Uh huh?"

"I'd wanted to cook in Paris since I was a kid, Tony, you have to understand that. I worked my way through culinary school, and up through the ranks of several restaurants, and finally it seemed like I was getting my big break. So I called Angie and made plans to pick her up from work because I had some big news. So all day I couldn't wait to tell her, and I planned out this whole long drawn-out thing where I was gonna make her guess what my news was, and then I drove by her school. She was outside watching the kids get onto the buses, grinning and waving at them, and this one little 3rd grade girl came up and gave her a big hug. I knew that if I asked her to, she'd come to France with me, but right then I understood that she'd never be as happy there as she was here. And then I just knew. Because suddenly, for the first time in my entire life, this dream of mine took second place to something: her happiness. I never even told her about the offer, because she would have wanted me to take it. I proposed instead."

"Wow, Theo, I never knew that."

"Yeah, well, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to your sister. She still doesn't know what prompted me to ask her to marry me that day."

"Don't worry, Theo, your secret's safe with me. Listen…thanks. That really helps."

"No problem. Hey, Tony? Why don't you bring Michelle on Sunday?"

Tony grinned. Theo could hear it in his voice. "I was planning on it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** WOW! Thank you all so much for the reviews! They are so inspiring…every morning that I wake up to a good review, it just gets the day off to such a great start. Thanks :)

And a special note to those of you who haven't seen Casablanca: GO SEE IT! Seriously. One of THE best movies ever, no question.

I feel obligated to warn you about this chapter…there'll be some sex in it. Nothing very explicit, but it'll be there (PS: does anyone else really _detest_ the word "panties?"). On top of that, I need advice. See, I'd originally intended this story to be a very angsty, dramatic examination of the pitfalls and high points of the T/M storyline…but I've fallen in love with my harmless, fluffy plot so far, and I just can't bear to throw in the depressing bits I've written. So here's the poll: should I keep this story going in the lighthearted vein it currently enjoys, and put the angsty parts online as one-shots, or should I consign myself to a feature-length story and just build it all in?

Hope you like this chapter, and thanks for reading.

* * *

"All these years, Pax…all these years, and I thought you were just making up all that fireworks-and-swooning stuff you put in your books," Michelle said as she flopped backwards onto her bed and stared dreamily at the ceiling.

Pax gasped. "No…you got a book kiss? _Really_?"

"Mmm hmm. I was starting to think I'd imagined it…you know, the one at work? Or that I'd just been so pumped full of adrenaline that I would have responded to _any_one. But this goodnight kiss definitely proved me wrong."

"Wait…goodnight kiss? You mean you didn't have sex with him?"

"Nope. And _not_," Michelle emphatically pointed out, "for lack of trying on my part. I invited him in and he said no!"

"Um…" Pax hesitated. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Michelle, but that's not exactly a good sign."

"No no no…it wasn't like that. I asked him if something was wrong and he said "no, and that's why I'm leaving." Then he gave me this amazing smile and left…isn't that sweet?"

Pax was silent.

"Pax?"

"Well, you know that _personally_ I'd rather just get laid…but I can see where someone might find that romantic."

"Someone's in a cynical mood tonight."

"I'm always in a cynical mood. That's what makes me so memorable. So where did this tease take you, anyway?"

"He's not a tease!" Michelle laughed. "And he took me to this great, really expensive Italian restaurant. I was all worried when we walked in, because it's the kind of place that, you know, you don't go to unless you're on the VIP list or something…but Tony just went right up and bribed the maitre'd! Turns out his sister and brother-in-law own it. Theo even came out and talked to us for awhile and practically accused Tony of being in love with me, which nearly killed me, but he seemed really nice. Then we went to see _Casablanca_."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No! Michelle, he _didn't_!"

"Oh, but he did."

"Mmm." Pax groaned with exaggerated delight. "He's a keeper."

* * *

Despite Tony's directive, Michelle ended up going to work the next day, largely because she didn't have anything else to do. And, having spent most of the night trying not to picture the dead bodies of her coworkers lying amidst heaps of rubble, she was anxious to have something _other_ than the memory of a kiss to distract herself with. So she rolled out of bed at her usual 7:00, hopped in and out of the shower, and put on something that, while being serviceable enough to wear in the shell of a bombed building, she hoped would entice Tony to finish what he'd started the night before.

Her energy began to ebb somewhat during the drive to CTU, when guilt at being so happy during such a tragic time began creeping into her consciousness. Was it wrong, she wondered, to have gained so much joy on the same day so many innocent people were killed? Was she a bad person for having moved on, for having focused so much on Tony instead of constantly remembering the fallen? Then she remembered George, and the words that had started the whole thing: _Find something that makes you happy, and do it. Everything else is just background noise_. Michelle smiled to herself as she pulled into her assigned parking space. She hoped George was up there somewhere, heckling her relationship with Tony.

The work crews had made remarkable progress on the building. Michelle's old workstation was nonexistent, true, but in its place was a temporary desk complete with state-of-the-art computer, telephone, and everything else she needed for a day's work. She plopped down in the chair and logged on, very deliberately not looking up at the Director's office. Her phone rang as she was scanning through the day's memos, and she answered it absent-mindedly.

"Dessler."

"That's funny. I could've sworn I told Agent Dessler not to come in today. I must be imagining things, because I know everyone here knows better than to turn down a day off."

Michelle's gaze flew up to meet Tony's, staring down at her through his office blinds. "What can I say? I'm dedicated to my job."

Tony snorted audibly and she suppressed a smile. "You know, technically this is insubordination," he commented dryly. "I could have you brought up on charges."

"You wouldn't!" Michelle gasped in mock horror before remembering where they were and lowering her voice. She glanced around, trying to ascertain if anyone was paying attention to her.

"We-ell…I suppose I might allow myself to be bribed, in this instance. But only because I hate to see so much talent go to waste."

"I see. Out of the goodness of your heart, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Not," Michelle said firmly, "that I would ever consider such a cowardly course of action but hypothetically speaking…what's the price of your silence?"

Tony flashed her a grin before turning away and sitting down at his desk. "How do you feel about poker?"

"Poker?"

* * *

Poker. Texas Hold 'Em, to be specific; the Almeida siblings' bi-monthly tournament, to be exact. Tony watched Michelle nervously as he escorted her inside Angie and Theo's house, ready to whisk her out at the first sign of trouble. His family could be rather…overwhelming. To put it mildly.

They were the last ones to arrive. Accordingly, they were greeted by a chorus of enthusiastic "hello's" and "Tony, where have you been keeping yourself's" and "you must be Michelle's."

"Alright, alright, alright," Tony said, motioning for everyone to sit down. "Michelle, clockwise from your immediate left, this is Angela, you know Theo already, Abby, Adrienne, her fiancé Mitch, Anna, and Adam. Everybody, this is Michelle Dessler." The noise crescendoed again immediately.

"…this must be the girl he's been mooning about…"

"…your hair is gorgeous, Michelle..."

"…if you call me Abby, I'll have to kill you. It's Bee…"

"…you know you're the first girlfriend he's brought here?"

"…I'm so glad you weren't hurt in the bombing, sweetie…"

"…you say you're from Kansas City? I used to date a guy from there. What was his name…"

Tony did his best to intercept the worst of the questions (Anna kept asking Michelle how she felt about church versus small weddings), but he knew he was fighting a losing battle, so he settled for making sure her tequila kept coming. At least Michelle was holding her own. She wasn't staring in fear at Bee's leather jacket and purple hair, or the barbed wire tattooed around Adam's bicep. She was even laughing at something Adrienne had said. Eventually, the game actually started, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Michelle wasn't a horrible card player. He'd hate to see his brother and sisters clean her out too quickly.

But, to his surprise and delight, she held her own there, too, outlasting Adrienne (no surprise) and Anna (who was distracted by the prospect of some boy who might or might not be calling her that evening), as well as Adam (a solid player), Mitch (who gave up and followed Adrienne out to watch TV), and Angela (who had actual talent). By the time it was down to Michelle, Tony, Theo, and Bee, it was late enough that Angela reappeared to shoo them out the door.

"Some of us," she said pointedly, "have to work tomorrow. Including you."

So off they went, laughing, in Tony's car, back to Michelle's apartment. He fully intended to go home after another good-night kiss but the look in her eyes (equal parts shy request and brazen offering) when she asked him inside made him hesitate.

* * *

Michelle noticed his brief uncertainty and pounced on it. "Oh, c'mon," she cajoled softly, "we can finish our poker game." _I can't believe I'm having to work this hard,_ she thought, vowing to one day exact revenge on him. _And I can't believe how much tequila I let myself drink!_

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "I dunno…will you still respect me in the morning?"

She giggled and pulled him inside. "Who said anything about morning?" Flipping on a lamp she gestured widely. "Welcome to my tiny home." It _was_ a very small apartment. The kitchen was separated from the living room by a blue tiled peninsula, and her bedroom and adjoining bath opened off halfway between the two. That was it.

Tony frowned as he looked around. "I don't think we pay you enough."

"I'm saving up," Michelle said, "and investing until I can buy a real house." Tony nodded and looked at her. There was an awkward pause- they both knew why they were there, but neither one was quite sure enough to make the first move. Finally, Tony cleared his throat.

"You don't really wanna play poker, do you? I mean, you'd just lose…"

"There you go, bluffing again!" Michelle exclaimed. She retrieved a deck of cards from the kitchen and slapped them down on the coffee table before settling herself on the floor in front of it. "How am I supposed to refuse a challenge like that?"

"Tell you what," he said, sitting down across from her and beginning to shuffle the cards, "I think I can arrange this so we both come out ahead."

"Oh, really? And just how are you gonna do that?"

"Well…just how interesting are you willing to make this?"

Michelle leaned her elbows on the polished wood of the coffee table. "Just what did you have in mind?"

"Ever played strip poker?"

Despite her vast experience remaining constantly stoic and unruffled at work, a hint of a blush crossed Michelle's face. She hoped in vain he didn't notice, but if his ever-widening grin was any indication, he had. But he wasn't the only one who could bluff. "No," she said jauntily, "but it doesn't sound like it takes long to learn."

"I'll even take a handicap," Tony offered with a gleam in his eyes. "You're wearing more items of clothing than I am, but I'll let you keep them all on…for the time being."

The rules were soon established. His watch and her earrings and necklace were removed and set aside, and Tony began dealing five-card draw. Michelle's heart was beating loudly in her ears, but she forced herself to focus on the cards rather than the handsome man sitting across from her. She was rewarded a few minutes later when she triumphantly collected his left shoe.

"Hah!" she gloated. "Not so cocky now, are you?" But within a few minutes she was both shoeless and sockless, and only a lucky pair of jacks saved her from early humiliation. Two more wins, and only the interesting bits were left to be taken off. First, to Michelle's glee, came Tony's shirt, lost to three tens. He didn't unbutton it, instead pulling it over his head from the back in one smooth motion. If it was possible, her heart began beating even faster- he was, in her opinion, perfect. All muscles defined, but not grossly so; a light tan; enough dark hair to be virile without being, well, gross…her mouth went dry, her face reddened. Tony just gave a smug grin.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how she looked at it), her distraction soon lost her her own top. It was worth it, she thought, to see Tony's eyes glaze over just a little. When she revealed her red lace bra (the only such thing she owned- mostly she wore durable cotton) an unbidden image sprang to mind: that of a cat, and the sharpening of focus and tensing of muscles it exhibits when it first catches sight of its prey.

The next hand was a farce. They hardly looked at their cards before Michelle slowly stood up to take off her jeans. As she slid them slowly past her hips, knees, and stepped out of them, Tony stood as well.

Looking her straight in the eye, he said quietly, "Michelle, are you sure you want to—"

Heart racing, she nodded frantically. "Good," Tony muttered, and lifted her up and over the table and into his arms.

_Oh, God, finally,_ she thought returning his frantic kiss with equal fervor. Hot skin against hot skin…his hands running down her back…cupping her bottom…her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. She could feel his arousal pressing urgently against her. He was kissing her neck, her chest…somehow her bra was gone and he was worshipping her breasts with his mouth.

"Tony…" she gasped, molding his back with her fingertips, "Bedroom's through there…" Then they were moving, and he was kissing her mouth again, and then she was lying on her bed, horribly alone for a split second before her joined her, jeans and boxers gone, and slowly peeled away her panties.

And then they were there, just the two of them. No more barriers, no more pretense, no more games. Only two souls in two bodies, moving together in that effort to become, if only for a moment, one.

* * *

Afterwards, he watched her sleeping face, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb. He gathered her protectively in his arms, filled with a previously unknown joy as he recalled the words she'd whispered in the throes of passion.

"I love you, too," he said, and drifted off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN:** Thanks for all the reviews! I love you all. I've decided to keep this story fluffy, due to overwhelming demand, BUT I have created '12,' which is extremely angsty and deliciously dark. I hope. As for this one: unfortunately, I tend to lose interest in stories once I've gotten the main characters together. I'm going to try to keep this one going for awhile, but I just don't know. It may wrap itself up here pretty soon despite my best efforts. So if it does, just remember how much I've appreciated everyone's support and helpful comments these past weeks! This chapter is short, fluffy, and completely pointless. I LOVED writing it ;)

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Of course Chappelle called the next morning. Of course. The ringing of her bedside cordless yanked Michelle out of a deep sleep—the best she'd had in a long time. She glanced at the clock radio as she grabbed the phone and pushed the button to answer it. 6:30 am. It could only be work; no one else would call her so early.

"Hello," she said softly, trying not to wake Tony as she eased herself out of bed.

"Michelle?" Ryan Chappelle's voice came sharply from the speaker, "This is Ryan Chappelle. I tried to call your cell phone but you didn't answer."

"I, uh— oh!" Michelle gasped softly as Tony's arm snaked around her waist, yanking her back up against him. She cleared her throat and tried to stop his hands from roaming north to her breasts. "I must have left it on silent. What do you need, Mr. Chappelle?"

"I'm sorry to bother you at home, but we need you to come in early today. You're not scheduled until noon, but could you be here by eight?"

_Yeah, you sound real sorry,_ she thought, stifling a giggle and an "oof" as Tony flipped her expertly around until she was lying on her back and he was grinning evilly down at her. He started nibbling at her jaw line. "Um, sure, I can come in early." _Be quiet,_ she mouthed at the fiend on top of her, swatting at his hands. "Can I ask what this is—oh! about?" Tony had just bitten her neck in retaliation.

"Just a heap of paperwork the DOD sent over that has to be filled out today. I'm calling in everyone I can—" Michelle had her hand clamped over the receiver, trying to block out the sound of Tony kissing her passionately. "—but I haven't been able to get ahold of Tony yet. He didn't mention going out of town this weekend to you, did he?"

The urge to giggle hysterically and the urge to chuck the phone out the window and give her undivided attention to exploring the muscles of Tony's chest dueled in Michelle's brain, and she thought she might burst with the need to laugh. "Um…no…he, uh, he didn't say anything…to me…" She was _really_ distracted now: Tony had redirected his attentions southward.

"Are you all right, Michelle?" Chappelle asked, sounding skeptical rather than concerned.

"I'm fine!" Michelle exclaimed, then added "…Great! Actually," as Tony hit a particularly pleasant nerve. "Um, I'll see you at 8. Bye!"

Then the phone _did_ get thrown away.

* * *

An hour and fifteen minutes later they screeched to a halt in front of Tony's building. Michelle was out of the car on the sidewalk in a matter of seconds, Tony on her heels. "Land!" she cried dramatically.

"Oh, c'mon. You can't tell me you never talk on the phone while you're driving."

"Not while I'm going 90 down the freeway, I don't!"

The release of Tony's inner NASCAR-wannabe had been triggered by a combination of factors. First, the series of events he'd started while she was talking to Chappelle had been, well, brought to a conclusion. Then they'd showered together, Tony insisting that "it will save time." In reality it had delayed them another half hour. But she'd thrown on some clothes while grumbling about men having it easy, not having to worry about their hair or makeup or matching shoes, and they were out the door an hour after she hung up the phone. Unfortunately, they had to go by Tony's apartment because CTU had a strict "no jeans" policy and Tony didn't want anyone giving him knowing looks as he traipsed around in wrinkled casual wear all day. So they'd clambered hurriedly into his car and set off for his place, which was thankfully en route to CTU. She was already gripping the seat and trying not to worry about traffic jams, pedestrians, and angry, armed drivers when Tony'd picked up his cell phone to let Chappelle know he was coming in. Then her grip became positively white-knuckled.

"Ryan? Yeah, it's Tony Almeida. You called about a zillion times?"

Michelle heard Chappelle say something on the other end but she couldn't make out what. Tony saw her nervousness and, cradling the phone between his left shoulder and ear, he reached over to take her hand, continuing to drive with the other. She tensed even more. "_Not helping,_" she whispered sharply.

"Yeah, well, I was busy," Tony continued. _Oh, God,_ Michelle thought. _Why couldn't he just say his phone was on silent, or dead, or in the car like a normal person?_ "Frankly, Ryan? It's none of your business. Suffice it to say it was something very important."

Well, she couldn't grudge herself a little grin at _that_.

They ended up making it to his apartment in record time, despite Michelle's private opinion that they were going to wind up in a hospital first. She raced upstairs behind Tony and tried to take in as much information as she could while he changed and she greeted Sarge. A plethora of previously undisclosed 'dirt' could, in Michelle's opinion, be found in a man's home when he wasn't expecting company, but all she gleaned from Tony's was rather mundane: he was reasonably neat, but not obsessively so; his taste in furniture ran to comfortable and lived-in rather than any discernable style; he knew how to cook, because his kitchen was stocked with a variety of complicated-looking instruments she couldn't begin to guess the purpose of. Her snooping was cut short by Tony's reemergence in well under three minutes, though, and she again mentally cursed whatever Power had decided that men should be lower-maintenance than women.

Ten minutes later they rolled into the CTU parking garage right on time. They were only a few steps from the vehicle when Michelle gasped and grabbed Tony's arm. "We can't walk in together!"

"Why not?" He gave her a puzzled look.

"Because…then everyone will know that we…well, that we…came in together. On a Monday morning."

Tony looked at her blankly for a second before understanding dawned. "Ohhh…I get it. You think they'll all start gossiping about us."

"I don't think, I know."

"Sweetheart, I really don't think anyone cares that much."

She gaped at him, even the warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach resulting from being called 'sweetheart' overshadowed by disbelief. "Are you serious?" He was. "Tony, _everyone_ who works here knows that we…kissed last week. And _everyone_ is watching _every_ move we make now, trying to decide if and how far we've progressed since then. EVERYone!"

He still looked skeptical. "Why would anyone care?"

She crossed her arms and used her driest tone of voice. "Well, I imagine it's because every woman who works here wants to know whether or not you're off the market."

"Huh." He paused. "Ya think?" he asked, looking doubtful.

"Yes."

"Hmm. Well," he took her arm and escorted her towards the door, "in that case I think we should just go in together and let them all know that we're _both_ off the market, so to speak."

Michelle stopped dead in her tracks. "Are we?" she asked, hating herself for the waver in her voice but unable to keep herself from finding out just how serious he was.

Tony looked deep into her eyes and gave one of his rare but gorgeous smiles. "I am if you are."

She smiled back shyly, breaking into a blush.

"Besides," he continued, "maybe now that annoying little programmer will stop stalking you. What's his name— Seashell? Seabiscuit?"

"Huh? Jason Seaman? Oh, he's just an acquaintance. Barely even a friend, to be honest."

He snorted. "Trust me. The guy looks at you the same way I always wanted to."

She blushed some more. "I just think we should…lay low for awhile, you know? I mean, if people pick up on it, fine, but there's no need to…send out a memo or anything. You know?"

"What," he mocked her, "I had that memo all drafted up. Now I can't use it?"

Dropping her arm from his, she smacked him lightly on the shoulder. They were approaching the door and, therefore, the security cameras. From now on, someone would always be watching. But Tony grabbed her around the waist and pulled her behind a convenient pillar, kissing her soundly just long enough to send her head firmly into the clouds and all thoughts of work somewhere far distant before turning her loose and heading back towards CTU.

Hannah was waiting by the door, looking suspiciously innocent. "Good morning, Agent Almeida. Morning, Michelle," she said, swiping their ID cards. "Have a good weekend?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

"It was fantastic," Tony said, looking her straight in the eye and smiling.

Michelle closed her eyes and groaned. The man was just _incapable_ of lying. And damn if she didn't love him for it.


End file.
